No More Than a Sand Castle
by Belladonna Lee
Summary: ADGG Slash. They built a sand castle together once, but it did not last. Now, they are trying to topple each other's castle, but not before Gellert Grindelwald has his final say.


Disclaimer: The bewitching world of Harry Potter and its characters are not mine.

A/N: I'm taking a little detour into the past dealing between Dumbledore and Grindelwald. This is written in Grindelwald's point of view. Please note this Grindelwald is different from the other Grindelwald in my multi-chaptered series, _Black Veil _and _Ravens_.

**No More Than a Sand Castle**

Once upon a time, we built a sand castle together, he and I; but it did not last. He woke up from the dream he made for himself; I chased after the dream that would not be created had I never met him in the first place. Now, each of us had a sand castle of our own to play with, and we were setting out to destroy the other's castle.

It seemed so laughable somehow; we were like children playing foolish war games, the world being our playground, our wooden sand box. Nonetheless, it was a game I thoroughly enjoyed playing.

It was a moonless night when we met again after decades of silence. Even before he spoke, even before he entered my line of sight, I knew. He wanted to challenge me to a duel, but not by his own choice. If the others had not pleaded with him, he would not have come, would not have even dared to appear before me. He had a secret, you see; though I had not been able to see it for what it was during my adolescent year.

The meaning behind those furtive glances and fleeting touches did not occur to me until I had my first taste of adulthood. I wondered why I had been so oblivious before; was it because I was too inexperienced back then, or was it simply because he was very good at hiding his emotions when he desired it? Nevertheless, the notion that I was at the receiving end of his undiluted attention made me feel rather flattered.

Like a wizard child who had first discovered that wizards could fly on broomsticks, the seed was planted, and it had taken roots in my mind. It was then that I started to think: what would happen had I known sooner? The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to see if such a possibility could actually be realized -- if only to satisfy my morbid curiosity.

And here he was, older, wiser, and far more grim than before, looking at me with those hardened, accusing eyes of his. It only made the reckless side of me want to see how far I could go, how far I could push him until the floodgate crumbled.

I supposed we were too old for this, not only physically, but also mentally. Then again, decades of yearning and wondering was enough to drive anyone into madness; to delay it any further would not only be a crime, but madness in itself. I had waited too long for an answer, and I would not wait any longer.

When I told him, he stared at me, his profound azure eyes widened in shock. Unable to resist the sliver of triumph fluttering in my mind, a wicked smile was flirting at the corner of my lips. In a quiet voice quite unlike that of my usual self, I told him I did not love him, but I needed him to do this for me right now.

Would you think me deceitful for asking him of this the night before our final duel? One supposed an unconscious part of me was trying to use this to my advantage, though I would like to think that it was my desire that was guiding me along this egocentric detour. Selfishness was what became me; I had no need for excuses to explain away my capricious actions.

Time ticked on by, and still, he spoke no words. Silently he gazed at me, his weathered face a turbulence of emotions; he must think I was trying to manipulate him. In a sense I was, though perhaps not in a way he had imagined.

As though he had come to his decision at last, his eyes darkened into the colour of twilight, and his visage was painted with such restrained yet intense longing that, had I possessed more heart, I would have been burnt from merely looking at him. And then, with agonizing slowness, he reached out and brushed his fingers against my cheek. His touch was gentle and light, like a soft breeze that was barely there. I did not resist, did not protest; I leant my cheek into his palm that felt so rough with age yet warm like fire. It lit up the flame in me that had never been entirely extinguished, feeding it, stoking it, until everything was aglow.

There was a nice ring to the notion of one last time. The desperation, the fear, the anxiety, the urgency: so many emotions clashing with each other that it was impossible to tell what one was truly feeling. And when the first time was the last time, one could not help but feel as though a part of oneself had died away.

Two months and one night was too short a time for us, for me; but I would take whatever I could. All things considered, we were more fortunate than most people, who spent a lifetime searching and never finding that one spark that would complete them.

By the time he woke up, he would find me gone. It was very -- what was the term they use nowadays? -- cliched, but that was how it was. I would not hesitate to kill him the next time I meet him on the battlefield; and he would not hesitate to kill me if he must. When it comes to this war game between us, neither he nor I would relent, no matter what our hearts might say otherwise.

The playground was only so large; it was not large enough to accommodate the both of us. One of our sand castles must topple, and one of us would tumble down with it, giving way for the victor to expand his sand castle in the now empty playground.

This was the rule of the game, nothing more, nothing less.

* * *

_Finis._

A/N: Here it is, my idea of what the canon Gellert Grindelwald is like. This fic basically wrote itself as I was listening to songs by Shiina Ringo and Tokyo Jihen. Anyway, thanks for reading, and if you like, tell me what you think.


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